7 Shards
by bpfatcat
Summary: Time is destructive, but Hermione is going to save as much as she can... Whatever the cost. ON HIATUS.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Everything was shifting awkwardly, like a film reel shown frame by torturous frame. _Click._ The moon was revealed in all its savage, silvery beauty. _Click_. Professor Lupin was huge and hairy and horrifying. _Click. _Ron was on the ground, moaning in terror and pain. _Click. _Scabbers, no, _Pettigrew_, had sent a bright white light towards him, and he was silent. _Click._ She raised her wand. _Click_. Pettigrew turned. _Click_. A giant dog bounded past the both of them to intercept the wolf. _Click_. He sent the same light in her direction. _Click_. Crookshanks leapt forward to intercept the spell. _Click_. Spell and cat-kneazle hit her at the same time. _Click. _She fell backwards. _Click_. Crookshank's claws dug into his human's chest. _Click_. She hit the ground and rolled. _Click_. The time-turner around her neck shattered. _Click_.


	2. Chapter1

**A/N** Hiiii, I'm baaaaack! Yes, I know, the well overdone time-turner idea, but I'm hoping to have one or two twists to keep you guys interested. Thanks to everyone who's already commented etc on this, I'll be replying to comments directly at the bottom of each page from now on. Oh, and sorry this is all bunched together, double spacing between chapters is _not working_, so any advice you guys have on how to fix it would be much appreciated. So anyway, as always, read, review, favourite, follow and most importantly, enjoy!

**Disclaimer;** This is for the whole fic, I own nothing but the thoughts in my mind.

**Chapter 1**

Sirius and James were tossing a purloined training quaffle back and forth in the unusual autumnal warmth, still laughing with youthful joy at their latest escapade. Seeing the Slytherin robes changed to bright magenta, and their school banner changed to read 'Slytherpink', was something that would undoubtedly amuse them for years. As would old McGoogly-Eyes' expression; it was no secret that the Marauders' ultimate goal was to make her so disapproving that her lips would purse so much that they would actually disappear within her mouth, and that morning had been one of their closest efforts yet. Of course, it was doubly comical as they knew that their head of house looked sternest when she secretly found something rather funny herself. Fireworks in the Great Hall; no-no. Dungbombs in Transfiguration; _big_ no-no. Charming the suits of armour to sporadically sing, 'Slytherin, Slytherout', the song they had composed; oh yes-yes. Just don't get caught.

"Hey, Lupin!" James yelled over to the tree that their foursome had claimed last year, and was now definitely Their Tree. Beneath its branches Remus, of course, had his nose in a book, and Peter was munching through some pastries he'd snuck out of breakfast, pretending to do homework but in actuality watching the game of catch grow steadily more vicious.  
Remus looked up just as Sirius, seeing an opportunity, hurled the ball at James' head with entirely more force than was necessary, but with a chaser's ease he caught and threw it back, where it hit his opponent in the stomach. Sirius _oofed_ as the breath was knocked out of him, and Peter laughed loudly. Even Remus seemed to have a twinkle in his eyes. "What?" He called back with faux-irritation.

James, grinning easily, flopped down between the other two, victory etched over his features. "Whatcha reee-ading?" He asked in a sing-song voice, lying flat on his back and shoving his hair out of his face. Sirius also lay down, flush on his stomach, and flicked his hair with a practised movement, winking at the two first year girls walking by, both of whom immediately giggled. "Creepy, Sirius." James commented in a bored tone, before dodging the casually thrown fist headed towards his arm and turning his attention back to Remus.

"'Lord of the Flies'." Sirius commented, reading over his shoulder and still attempting to sock James in the arm. "Sounds awful."  
Remus frowned. "You'd like it actually, Sirius. A group of boys are stranded on an island with no adults around-"  
"Love it already!"  
"- and they nearly all go mad and try to kill each other."  
Sirius frowned and then shrugged. "Meh. First sign of madness is not accepting you're mad."  
Peter chuckled. "I'm pretty sure that's not how that saying goes, you know."  
"It is for a Black." He replied sharply, his eyes darkening with his mood.

The others, used to Sirius' changeable moods, especially regarding his family, brushed over the incident with a practised ease. "So it's not like Lord of the Rings, then?" James inquired smoothly.  
Remus shook his head. "No, not at all." He tilted his head and gave a small, but sincere smile. "How are you coming with that?"  
Arching his back, he rolled over to his school bag and plucked a book from its midst. "I'm there." James replied, pointing to a scrap of spare parchment he'd been using as a bookmark.

Sirius looked in horror from his best friend to the tome. "James?! You're- you're," He spluttered for a few moments as the others looked on in amusement, "you're _reading_!" He finally shouted. "This cannot be borne. No, no, no. We already _have _a bookworm, we don't need another! I blame you for this." He levelled an accusatory finger at Remus, before plucking the offending books from his and James' hands. "I'm going to fix this." He yelled, beginning to jog away backwards, humour lighting up his eyes. Much as they may tease Remus, he did tend to have excellent taste when it came to muggle novels; Sirius himself was midway through The Three Musketeers.

But the day was warm, and warm days were not for reading. Warm days were for running and pranking and laughing, and the others immediately began to chase him, even if Remus did it with a half-hearted eye-roll. They ran around Their Tree, not over-exerting themselves, simply revelling in their youth and their friendship and their freedom. Sirius suddenly broke off and headed for a nearby slope, laughing gaily as he taunted the three close behind him, before his eyes abruptly widened and he disappeared from sight, falling over as he tripped.

Remus and Peter howled in merriment as Sirius rolled down the bank, _umph_-ing and _oof_-ing at each bump, and swearing when he finally stopped at the bottom, rubbing his head uncomfortably. But James' smile had slipped from his face as soon as he had reached the edge of the tilted ground. Not out of worry for Sirius, for although he was like his brother, he knew for a fact that Sirius was made of sturdy stuff and a small trip wouldn't bother him. No, his eyes had focussed on what, or rather _who_, Sirius had tripped over. A figure that he could've sworn wasn't there three seconds earlier.

Being de facto leader of their little band of miscreants meant that the others were often well attuned to his moods, and so within only a few moments of his not joining in their humour, Remus had quietened, followed shortly by Peter. All three looked curiously at the body on the floor for half a beat, before James began barking orders. "Remus- get Dumbledore. Peter- get Madam Pomfrey. Sirius!" He called down to the grumbling boy. "Anything broken?" Sirius shook his head and gave a thumbs up, giving the girl a curious glance. "Good, then pull yourself together and go get Hagrid. We don't know where she came from, but she might be in trouble." The three nodded at him and seemed to be taught with tension, until he snapped, "_Now_!" They all took off, Remus with one last furrow-browed look at her, two in one direction and one in the other, as James went to his knees beside the body.

For a moment he was unsure that she was alive; her eyes were half-closed and blood stained her skin and clothing in a sickly scarlet dye. Thankfully, though, he finally heard the rattling of breath echoing through her, though what he could see of her eyes was still vacant. Cursing himself for not knowing even basic healing spells, or muggle first aid for that matter, he winced at the droplets of shattered glass embedded into her skin, weeping blood steadily into the ground below. He reached out with a finger to gently wipe one of the rivulets running from her forehead, only to shriek in a way that made him glad the lads weren't around to hear. Clutching his now weeping finger to his chest, he glared at whatever had scratched him, and found a large, squashed faced, orange furball glaring right back at him with sharp yellow eyes. The cat- was it a cat?- flicked its fluffy, bottlebrush tail threateningly, and rested his bandied legs on the girl's cheek, somehow finding a place with no glass in it.

He gave an appraising look and then nodded seriously at the cat, idly thinking that it rather looked as though it had run face first into a wall. As though sensing the comment as it flew across his mind, it growled low in its belly as its tail bushed even more, hackles standing to attention. James sat back on his heels, and then shrugged; though it was uncommon to find a familiar- a pet that was unfailingly loyal to one person alone, that became a part of that person- it was not unheard of. He considered the cat, decided that it had to be at least part kneazle, then mentally slapped himself and returned to the far more important matter of the bleeding girl by his knees.

"Can I…?" He asked the animal, indicating two fingers towards the girl's neck and hoping that the feline understood him. The cat settled and, in as much as cats could, looked approving. He pressed two fingers to the girl's neck, huffing out a sigh as he felt a heartbeat, however faint it was. The cat looked smug and he frowned. "What, I didn't know? Not all of us have extra sensory whiskers or fur." To his amusement and slight irritation, the orange beast looked unequivocally smug, and even started purring. "Stupid superhuman cat." He murmured. "Except of course you're superhuman. You're not human." He sighed as he shucked off his outer robes. "Look, I don't want her getting cold, so I'm going to put this over her, okay?" The weather, as was want to do on their island, had turned 180 and a chilly, freezing wind had picked up.

The ginger ball seemed to be arguing with itself, before cautiously picking its way across the woman's chest, avoiding areas that seemed overly painful, and placing two blood-stained paws on his knees, snuffling and huffing. He held his cloak out for the cat-kneazle to smell, was fairly sure the animal was about to give his approval, when something happened that made him shriek in surprise and then scream in pain.

"Mr Potter?"

\\*/

Remus Lupin rarely sprinted. He jogged, he casually ran, and he speed-walked, but he rarely sprinted. Because he knew it would alarm others. It might even give them cause to think of _why _he was so speedy, and _how _he seemed to stay so fit and trim despite never seeming to exercise, and _what _exactly caused him to be 'mysteriously ill' once a month. Already there had been rumours among the older students about him being a hermaphrodite, rumours that he had shamefully encouraged. It was better that people thought that he was a man who had a- he internally shuddered at the very thought- _period_, than knowing the truth.

But now he sprinted, keen eyes flicking past student's faces as they jumped out of his way or gazed in confusion at his streaking form. This girl that had appeared from nowhere needed help. And there was something… _Off _about her too. He needed to speak to the Head. He bounded up the Grand Staircase, willing the stairs with everything he, and _It_, had, to give him the easiest path to the Headmaster's office. Amazingly, they seemed to obey, and he found himself taking the final steps using both hands and feet, before consciously slapping himself and rising from his crouched position and running the rest of the way to the stone gargoyle that hid the entrance to Professor Dumbledore's office.

Being what he was, with _It_ inside him, Dumbledore had been very accommodating and unusually kind regarding his condition. As such, the Head had, from the first week he had started at school, made sure that Remus knew the password to his office, in case he had any lupine-related issues or such. Some of his ways of communicating had been rather strange, and really rather amusing actually. Last Halloween, when he was still exhausted from the previous night's full moon, he had been 'anonymously' sent a bar of Honeyduke's finest dark chocolate, with 'Tongue-Twisting Twisted Twisty Toffee' carved into it. And earlier this very year, on the horror that was Valentine's Day, he had had to suffer through an exploding confetti ball, with a note in the midst stating, 'Red Velvet Violet Wraps'. Dumbledore was funny, like that, and sometimes Remus found himself unkindly thinking that if he spent _less _time planning small niceties for him and others, and _more _time focussed on the 'important issues', then maybe they wouldn't have so many obituaries in the Daily Prophet.

But now he was beyond grateful for Dumbledore's caring, albeit peculiar, ways, as he skidded and stopped, yelling, "Bouncing Bon-Bons!" The gargoyle began to turn, and Remus waited impatiently as the spiral stairs twisted upwards. Practically vibrating with energy, and still trying to supress _It_, he took a few steady breaths, and thought he could perhaps pass for calm, when he knocked on the Professor's door.

"Come in." A voice said serenely, and he obeyed, pausing when he saw Professor McGonagall (Or McGoggles or McGigglies or whatever new name James and Sirius had invented) sat in the seat opposite the Head, Professor Slughorn in the seat beside her. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Ah, Mr Lupin, the Professors and I were just discussing the, eh, _change of attire_, that occurred this morning at breakfast."

"It was a harmless prank." McGonagall sniffed.  
Slughorn frowned. "Against Slytherin. You understand why I'm upset, Minerva; it's my house that is being targeted."  
Nostrils flared, she began to bite back, "And why do you think _my _house has anything-"  
"Mr Lupin," The head interrupted effortlessly, "do you have any knowledge of a Gryffindor or, a group of Gryffindors, planning this, _ahem_, implemented fashion choice?"  
"Well, it was likely-"  
"Horace, I think it would be better if things were dealt with swiftly, don't you? Now, Mr Lupin?"  
"No Sir." He lied, fairly sure that his cheeks were the same shade of magenta that the Slytherin robes currently were.  
"Well then!" The Head said, clapping his hands together. "As there's no reason to suspect anyone,"  
"Albus, no-one can change the sign back! The 'Slytherpink' won't-"  
"I'm sure," His voice raised a notch, and Remus flinched back, "that the banner can be sorted, and that whoever was responsible will be caught." His eyes like solid sapphire, he glanced at the two teachers before him.  
Slughorn made one last try. "But we know it's-"  
"Horace." No-one would argue with that tone, and the chubby man seemed to wither in his chair. "Now, I do believe Mr Lupin would like to speak to me?"

Remus nodded emphatically, as the pair of teachers began to slink out of the room. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Actually, Professor, it might be better if the other two Professors are here?" He scowled as he swiftly remembered the urgency of the girl's condition, and the oddity of her appearance, and how much _blood _there was.  
"Are you sure, Mr Lupin?" Dumbledore asked, peering at him curiously.  
"Yes Sir. Um, I should have said right away, but you were all talking and I didn't want to interrupt, because that would be rude, wouldn't it? And Mum and Dad said to never be rude, especially not to your elders. Not that I'm calling any of you old! It's just that, you know, you're older than me! Which makes you an elder. No! Not an elder, an older. An older-than-me-er? And not that that's a bad thing, and-"

His mouth was running away with him, adrenaline pumping through his veins, still trying to keep _It_ at bay. He was vaguely aware of the two male voices calling his name gently, but it was the harsh woman's voice that drew him out of his own mind. "Mr Lupin!" Professor McGonagall snapped, though there was clear concern in her eyes. "Would you kindly tell us what has happened?"

He immediately responded to the command, twisting hands falling to his sides and back straightening slightly. "There's a girl, in the grounds. I swear she appeared out of nowhere; one second there's nothing, then the next she's there. Anyway, Sirius tripped over her and fell down the hill- though he's fine- and James sent all of us off. Pete went to find Madam Pomfrey, Sirius went to get Hagrid, and I was sent to fetch," He flailed his arm limply in the Head's direction, "you." He noticed all three adults open their mouths to speak and he cut across in an unusual act of disrespect. "Don't talk." He snapped. "She was covered in blood. She needs help."

All three sprung to action, Dumbledore barking orders just as James had earlier, but as he was instructed to lead them to the injured girl, Remus halted. "She's by the big tree in the grounds, near the top of the series of slopes. She's just in view of Hagrid's Hut."  
"Why don't you just show us, Mr Lupin?" Slughorn asked coolly.  
"Uh, well, I just, um…" He paused at the door, feeling really rather intimidated as the three taller, and larger, people staring at him. _It_ stirred uneasily, wanting to howl and bite and attack and be the _alpha_. Not intimidated. Not scared. As if sensing the inner-conflict of the teen, Dumbledore took a deliberate step back and bowed his head, almost imperceptibly. _It _calmed for a moment, and staring at his feet, he muttered, "I was wondering if I could maybe talk to you, Professor Dumbledore."

A spark of irritation flickered across the old man's face, but his voice was calm as ever when he asked, "Can it not wait until another time, Mr Lupin?"  
Remus shook his head. "No Sir. Sorry Sir."  
Their eyes met and the Head gave another, more obvious, nod. "Very well. Minerva; go to this girl and help as much as you can- if you cannot help her then bring her within the castle. Horace; check first the Hospital Wing, and if Mr Pettigrew has been successful in summoning Madam Pomfrey, go after them. If not, meet Minerva and help to bring the girl inside. I will follow shortly."

The two left swiftly, and Remus was left with that piercing blue gaze. "So, Mr Lupin, how may I help you?"  
He scuffed his foot against the floor, gnawing his lip and staring determinedly at a spot past the man's shoulder. "Well… This girl who turned up… I just have this feeling…" He sighed heavily. "_It_ doesn't understand her. _It_ doesn't get why, or how she can exist. _It _can sense this, this _magic_, this huge, powerful magic, but if I hadn't seen her with my own eyes, I wouldn't believe that she was real. I mean, _It _wouldn't. It's difficult to explain Professor."  
Dumbledore walked slowly back to his high-backed chair and regarded him seriously. "The wolf within you doesn't trust this girl?"  
He shook his head and fell into Slughorn's vacated seat. "No, it's not that _It _doesn't trust her. It's more like she just doesn't make sense. Like she's out of place, or time, or something. The magic around her is very strong though."

The wizened man idly twirled his beard around one finger, and rubbed his crooked nose in thought. "This magic…" He began slowly. "How would you describe it? Powerful, but in what way? Is it dark, for example?"  
Remus scrunched his nose, trying to remember the instinctive reaction _It _had had upon seeing the girl. "Yes… And no. As in, I got- I mean _It _got- the feeling that maybe she'd been attacked with dark magic. _It _didn't get the feeling that she, herself, used really dark magic. _It _just felt that this magic was old, _ancient _even. The only other time _It_ has reacted like this was when I visited Wales with my parents, Castell Croc-something-or-another, and I just put that down to it being a near-full moon."

"I see." Dumbledore said softly. "Well, as long as you don't have the feeling that she's dangerous to the students-"  
"Oh, no, Sir." Remus interrupted, ignoring the voice within that chided him on his lack of manners. "In fact… When _It _saw her, _It _got the feeling that she was part of a pack. Not _Its _pack, but a similar pack. _It _got the feeling that she would become part of _Its_ pack."  
Sharp eyes narrowed at him. "Do you believe she is also a, _em_, 'sufferer' of lycothranpy?"  
"No no no," Remus said quickly. "No. I would have sensed that immediately. She's not a, you know… She doesn't have a little furry problem."

Dumbledore nodded, with a small smile. "Of course. Thank you for coming to me with this, Mr Lupin. I can only imagine how difficult it must have been." Remus gave a non-committal shrug and stared pointedly at his feet, making a sound similar to _mfnlgm_. The older man's eyes twinkled with humour. "Now, we'd best join the others and see to this strange girl, yes?" Remus nodded and followed his long strides to the door, pausing only when the Head stopped suddenly and gave him a curious look. "Was it Castell Crochenydd that you meant? The place you had visited?"

"Uh, yes Sir, that's the place." He answered, disconcerted by the sudden change of subject. "Rather than going abroad, my parents would take me on holiday to historical, magical sites around the UK. We visited Castell Crock-Croc-Crocken, well, _there_, when I was, erm, seven, maybe?"  
"And you felt the same powerful magic there, that you have from this stranger?"  
Nose scrunched, Remus thought back. "Um, not the same, exactly. Just, old. Powerful. _Big_." He bit his lip lamely; for all that he read, his vocabulary always seemed to fail him at the worst times.

But Dumbledore simply _hmm_ed in his throat, eyebrows drawn slightly together, and murmured, "Curious." Before gesturing for them to continue. So absorbed was he with his own thoughts, that Remus didn't notice that they only had to go down two staircases before reaching the Entrance Hall, nor that the Professor was also silent, his own confusion keeping his brilliant mind occupied and making his bright blue eyes narrow and darken in concern.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Sirius hated being ordered around. Maybe it was due to his upbringing; the countless 'Blacks do' and 'Blacks do not' rules that, when broken, meant punishment, varying from a swift blow to the ear, to being sent to The Room. Maybe it was simply in his blood to despise it; after all, the ancient traits of Pride and Superiority might as well have been included into the family motto. Whatever it was, orders had always rankled him, for as long as he could remember. Whether they were from his screeching mother, the eternally miserable Filch, or his brilliant, albeit occasionally boring, teachers. So, he made it his life's work to entertain himself by annoying these people, rebelling in any way he could, and pushing The Line as much as possible.

After all, it was difficult for anyone to stay too angry, or at least punish him, if he _technically _hadn't broken any rules. In fact, it was a point of pride to him, that during only one year of him being at Hogwarts, a whole new folder of regulations had been created, because _technically _he hadn't broken any rules. Yes, he would readily admit that introducing a whole herd of garden gnomes to the library had _likely _been an error in judgement, but it didn't _specifically _say anywhere that one shouldn't try to help a group of magical beasts find a new home. They liked building little houses out of the books. It was a perfectly reasonable idea. _Now_, of course, there was a rule against it. Stupid grown-ups not understanding fun.

There were only three people, he reasoned, that he would take orders from, and only then if they were direct and didn't irritate him too much. Well, four, he considered as he jogged down the slopes to Hagrid's Hut, but his father hadn't spoken to him beyond, 'Pass the salt', in so long that he couldn't even remember what he sounded like when being authoritative. In fact, he'd barely spoken at all for years, to anyone.

Shaking the thought off like an irritating bug, a wasp or a flea or something, he returned to the task at hand. That girl- she'd looked like a girl from a distance at least- needed help, and he was more than happy to step into the role of Knight in Shining Armour! Or, you know, Knight in Dark Armour. He much preferred being the broody, intriguing type with the wicked sense of humour and _just _enough danger. That was his act, at least, to himself and to others. Deep down he knew that he could be capable of more than 'just enough' danger. But he didn't go there. He never did. There led to bad places which led to worse places which led to The Room. Then again, The Room was never far from his mind.

"Black!" Hagrid's voice suddenly boomed. "What're yeh doin' here? Don' tell me yuh've ruined me pumpkins again!" His beetle eyes were twinkling as he regarded Sirius, and he grinned back. Hagrid was awesome, a great laugh with some incredible stories about past students that he was more than happy to share with he and the others. Especially after a bottle of Muggle whiskey. He liked the company, Sirius figured, and they enjoyed his too, so long as they avoided his baking. Even Peter, who had once eaten an entire block of mould-ridden cheddar on a dare, wouldn't touch the food at Hagrid's.

"Hey, Hagrid. Listen, no time to explain- oh, your pumpkins are fine, your cabbages and carrots are too, though you might want to check your broad beans at some point, not sure but they might be alive now- anyway, there's this girl who's appeared out of nowhere and she's in trouble so I came to get you now let's go!" He blurted out, already pulling uselessly at his huge forearm.  
"Hold on, Sirius, what abou' a girl?"  
"_Trouble_!" Sirius yelled. "Blood, unconscious, dead? Maybe not dead. But trouble, her, in!" He continued to pull on his sleeve with all his might, and nearly toppled over- for the second time in less than _ten minutes_\- when Hagrid began striding forward.  
"What're yeh playin' at getting' me, Black?" What little face not covered with bristly hair crinkled. "Yeh should've bin getting' Professor Dumbledore!"  
"Remus's gone to get him, and Pete's gone after Madam Pomfrey." Sirius answered breathily as he tried to regain his composure and keep up.

Hagrid nodded and murmured something about, 'Great man', under his breath. Sirius thought about their Head idly. Now _no-one_, not even someone as stupid and rebellious as him, would cross Dumbledore, or disobey a direct order from him. There was just something about the man; when that intense, blue eyed gaze fell on you, you just had to do whatever you could to make it _go away_ and just _stop_. It wasn't just that he was the Headmaster, or that he was insanely powerful, or even that he was famous for a ridiculous amount of things, it was just that he- that he… He had his name on a Chocolate Frog card, for Merlin's sake. You just didn't mess around with someone who had their own Chocolate Frog card!

Mrs Potter, she was second on his list of do-not-say-no-to people. Mrs Potter, James' mum, Euphemia, who was always kind and understanding. Who had actually promised to keep a bed made at her home for him, in case he needed to unexpectedly stay. Who despite her Fawley blood and Hufflepuff upbringing, could terrify anyone, much as a lioness, if they dared attack her son. He had even seen McGonagoogly wither under Mrs Potter's gaze, when she dared suggest that James had started a duel that had left Sirius in the Hospital Wing.

She could be terrifying on occasion, and it was _not _worth finding out what would happen if one disobeyed a direct command. Especially not for Sirius, who she had almost immediately started to view as a second son, and who had been more of a mother to him than his own ever had. He relied on Mrs Potter more than he would ever admit, and would likely skip into a dementor-infested cave if she asked him. Serious orders from her were rare, and when she gave them _no-one _would deny. Of course, if it was a 'tidy your room'-esque order then she was open to as much ridicule and laughter as the next person.

"How'd yeh find this girl?" Hagrid asked, cutting across his inner monologue.  
"I fell over her." Sirius admitted, without any shame.  
"Typical. Yeh all right?" He grunted, a hint of concern colouring his tone.  
"Yeah, yeah. All fine."  
Hagrid squinted. "Is Mr Potter talkin' to himself?"

Sirius followed his gaze and gave a small, unintentional half-smile. James Potter, his best friend and closer to his brother than stupid _Reggie _ever had been, was knelt beside the girl and- his smile turned into a wicked grin- he did seem to be talking to himself. This was classic material for future mocking.

James was the third and final person he wouldn't deny an order from, though he couldn't exactly pin-point _why_. He could only remember _when _James had first given him an order, and how actually he hadn't really minded.

\\*/

He had first come to Hogwarts with a plan. Certain he'd be sorted into Slytherin, like most of his family, he was going to show straight away that he didn't care for this blood purity nonsense, but also show that he was powerful enough that he couldn't be pushed around. He would go through his seven years, alone and friendless as he was accustomed to, then get the hell out of the country, go somewhere where the name 'Black' meant nothing.

Then that raggedy old hat had ruined things in the most wonderful way.

Despite being suddenly and unexpectedly sorted into Gryffindor, he'd intended to keep to his plan of asserting his dominance whilst making it _very _clear that he wanted nothing to do with his name and the beliefs associated with it. And that he was _not _going to be ordered around. So when he and the other first years were told to follow their Prefect to the Common Room, he had impulsively and, in hindsight, rather stupidly, wandered off alone, nose defiantly in the air. Being a Black, he'd refused to ask for help, but was beginning to become concerned as he walked through endless corridors that all looked the bloody same. He smirked as he recalled muttering, "Would it kill them to put some bloody signs up?"

A voice nearby had snickered, and another boy had rounded the corner. "I know, right? But then I guess they'd be magical so they'd just move around." Sirius had glanced over the lightning-struck, spikey hair and glasses and smirked. If it came to a fist fight, he could take this kid, no problem. "Lost, are you?" The boy had asked.  
Sirius had scowled. "No. Mind your own business."  
This had seemed to amuse the other lad, who had simply shrugged and said, "Well, I'm on my way back to the Gryffindor Common Room, before they figure out I'm gone. See ya."

Hesitantly, Sirius had followed. His legs were tired, and nothing had gone as expected, and he was probably disowned by now, and he was bloody hungry having not being able to eat, and he just wanted a bloody bed to bloody sleep in. They had traipsed up countless flights of stairs before Sirius finally spoke. "So you're a Gryffindor?" The other boy gave him a look that clearly said, _duh_, and he bristled slightly. "What year are you in? Gonna rat me out?"  
"Wow," he'd replied, "you really _were _out of it during the sorting. I'm a first year, got sorted after you."  
"I had a lot of things on my mind." He'd snapped, and the boy had shrugged.

When the guy had let them into their common room- after a zillion flights of stairs and a very disapproving portrait- Sirius followed him mutely up _another _staircase, this one spiralling, to the Boys Dormitory. Snapping out of his reverie, he'd reverted to The Plan and, ignoring Mr Spikey-Hair and another lanky boy who was methodically placing books in his bedside cabinet, he approached one of the beds. Specifically, one of the beds which already had clothes piled hap-hazardously upon it.

With one grand motion he swept the pile of shirts, trousers and underwear from the mattress and flopped down, glaring at the fourth guy steadily. Clearly the previous claimant of this bed, he was a short, somewhat round boy with wispy blonde hair, and he had met Sirius' grey eyes with pale blues of his own. Pale blues filled with fear. _Like hell am I going to let _anybody_, let alone this wimp, boss me around_, he'd thought arrogantly.

And that might have been that, if Spectacles hadn't have seen. "That's Peter's bed." He'd said quietly.  
"That's okay, I can-" The short boy interrupted, but Sirius saw the other guy raise a hand to quiet him.  
"No, Pete, you chose that bed and it's yours."  
Sirius had rolled his eyes, drawling in a bored tone, "So? What about it?"  
The other guy had strolled across, into Sirius' eyeline and nodded his head towards the last vacant bed. "That's yours."

He had begun to bite back a sarcastic or confrontational remark, more than ready to pummel him to prove that _he _would be in charge. But then he actually met this guy in the eye and faltered slightly. His hazel eyes were hard, and though he was only eleven and somewhat short, he held a kind of power around him, a power that could silence a room with only a look. And indeed, even the boy with the books had stopped unpacking and was watching on with Mr Watery Eyes, both of their mouths open. He glanced between Spikey, Lanky and Wispy-Hair, and felt his retort die in his throat. Those hard hazel eyes were not to be argued with.

He had risen slowly, tensing his shoulders to hide the shaking as his mind went to The Room, and started walking to the other bed, before pausing abruptly. Spinning on a heel, he'd picked up this boy, Peter's, clothes and placed them back on the mattress. "Sorry, man." He'd mumbled.  
"No problem." The guy called, chuckling awkwardly as Spikey returned to his own bed casually.

Sirius had started to unpack and the tension had slowly begun to unwind when the weirdly powerful guy had spoken again. "Hey," He'd called, and all three had turned to find him looking at Sirius with a small, peace-offering, smile, "I noticed you didn't eat much at dinner, and my mum packed me practically a banquet for the train." He rolled his eyes fondly. "So, you want a sandwich or anything?"  
"Err…" He'd been bemused. He'd clearly broken some kind of rule and this boy hadn't let him get away with it. But he also wasn't _punishing _him. What the hell was this?  
"Oh, I'm James, by the way. That over there's Peter, and he's Remus." He pointed to the others in turn, before tilting his head in an obvious question. Sirius was still trying to figure out what his punishment would be, and how it would be enacted, and must have looked rather idiotic as the boy, James, went on to say- each syllable deliberately enunciated- and with one finger pointing at himself, "Jaaa-meees Pottt-teeer."

He'd flinched. Ah, here was the punishment. If his roommates had been half-bloods or muggle-borns, he might have avoided any hostility regarding his name, but the Potters were Sacred 28, and so undoubtedly knew about the Blacks, and the type of people they were. He'd envied the Potter family, whilst they were insulted round his dining table and hated on principal, as they represented everything contrary to his own family. This guy, James, would certainly hate him as soon as he told him who he was. _Oh well, might as well get this over and done with._

"Sirius." He'd croaked. "Sirius Black."  
James had started slightly, before shrugging. "Bet your folks won't be too happy tomorrow, huh?"  
"I'm expecting a least one Howler from my mother and a dozen hexes from my horrid cousins."  
The other guy had flashed a grin that Sirius quickly learned to enjoy. "Well then, we'd better get started on ideas for revenge. We've gotta stick together, you know."  
Sirius had smirked back. "Sounds good to me."  
"So, you want a sandwich or what?"

\\*/

Since that day, whenever James got _that look _in his eyes, which was rare enough to make it of upmost importance, Sirius and the others obeyed. It was also since that day that he'd considered Spikey his best friend. Merlin knew Sirius couldn't trust his family, or himself for that matter, but James he could trust. James would have his back. James would be his brother. James would stop him from doing something that would make him hate himself or, worse, the other three hate him.

However, brother or no, the guy was talking to himself and, honestly, James would likely be ashamed if Sirius didn't give him hell for it down the road. Especially when Slughorn and McGloogly walked up, she said something, and he yelped, then shrieked like a five-year-old girl. _Oh yes_, he thought wickedly, following in Hagrid's booming footsteps, _this is definitely future mocking material._ But then they were close enough to see the scene properly, see the ginger lump attached to James' leg and, more alarmingly, the blood soaking into the earth from the unconscious girl. Hagrid burst into a sprint, Sirius close at his heel.

\\*/

_A/N Thanks as always to those who've taken the time with this, especially my lovely reviewers! circumviolation; I sure hope that's a good wow! alogan and muzzerae; thank you very much, I hope to keep you intrigued. pianomouse; you're very welcome for sharing, thank _you _for taking the time to share your thoughts! Crossy; I don't think there's enough of this pairing around, so I thought I'd give it a shot. Going to be bouncing between the views of various characters throughout the story, Remus was a pretty fun one to write though._


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